Hellscream's Influence
by August08
Summary: A blood elf, a troll, and an orc. Three races. Three friends. Three different paths. However, fate deals them all the same hand when the power lust of the Warchief threatens to tear their beloved Horde apart even more. Now, pitted against unthinkable odds, they battle not only the threat of Garrosh Hellscream, but a growing tension within their own friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Inspired by Siege of Orgrimmar. This story will take place during the first part of the Mists of Pandaria expansion and will carry into the Siege of Orgrimmar raid. I have researched the Mists of Pandaria lore to no end for this story, but if I happen to slip somewhere along the way, please let me know and I will fix the mistake. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story.

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing associated with World of Warcraft. I only own Trisen, Emiska and Rapxer. The characters Traylon and Zorrion (who appear later on in the story) belong to my friend Yazzy Dollface. The characters Mathias and Rodonov belong to my friend rodonov. They were gracious enough to let me borrow their characters.

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She stood in the parched wastes of Durotar. There was nothing to see for miles in any direction. The world was colourless, just stark grey and pure white. She looked down at her hands. She could see the ground through them. She gazed up again and saw a scorpid lying dead a few feet away. Deep lacerations littered the creature's body. Blood had pooled around the corpse, drawing the attention of a Raptor that was stalking nearby.

She looked around the wasteland. Something was missing. Where was her body? If she was dead, her corpse should be close by. The Death Knight glanced down at the ground. A pool of blood stained the rock. No doubt that was where her body should have been. Then, she heard it. A soft voice on the wind. Trisen spun around, her ponytail whipping around her head. The voice came again, this time a bit clearer.

Suddenly, it felt as though something had grabbed her by the throat and yanked her across the expanse of the wasteland. The next thing she knew, Trisen was coughing and gasping for air. She opened her eyes as she regained her breath. She was in a small hut, lying on a mat with a crudely made pillow under her head. Trisen gazed around the small space. It was decorated in charms and artifacts she didn't recognize.

"Ah, good. The spell worked," came a rough, deep voice.

Trisen sat up when she saw the Orc standing in the doorway. He was young, but seemed wise for his age. He wore the robes of a mage. She didn't even know the Orcs had mages. But, then, there was a lot of things she didn't know. Or rather, couldn't remember. Her life before the Lich King was blank. All she could remember were the Death Knights and Ebon Hold. They weren't the pleasant of memories, but they were the only ones she had.

"Are you..." Trisen trailed off, coughing to clear her raspy throat. "Are you the one who brought me back?" she asked.

The Orc mage smiled. "No. That gift was given to my sister, Emiska. My name is Mathias. And this is my home. I found you out in the wastelands, half dead. It appeared as though you had a run in with a particularly testy scorpid. Unfortunately, by the time I got you back here, your body and spirit had separated."

"You mean I died before you could heal me," Trisen said.

Mathias nodded. "Yes. I was coming back from a trip to Sen'jin Village. That was when I found you."

"Thank you for saving me," Trisen said. "I was beginning to wonder if I was bound to walk Azeroth as a spirit for eternity."

"Well, it's not everyday that one brings back a Death Knight from death," Mathias commented. "Which leads me to my next question. What is a Death Knight doing here in Durotar?"

Trisen looked away, blue eyes haunted. "We...defected," she answered with some difficulty.

"You left the Lich King's side?" Mathias asked in disbelief.

"Things happened," Trisen replied. "Too much detail. It's a long story, and one that I'm not proud of."

"Then, let me ask a simpler question," Mathias said. "What is your name?"

The Death Knight looked up at him. "Trisen," she answered. "Trisen Stormrider. It's the only thing I have left of my old life."

Mathias gave her a respective bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Trisen Stormrider."

Trisen smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, too, Mathias," she said.

She winced and put an arm around her stomach. Mathias hummed in thought.

"Perhaps I shall call for Emiska. It would seem you are still in need of some healing," he commented. "Wait one moment."

He left the hut, leaving Trisen to her thoughts. She took the time to examine herself. Her armour was badly damaged, it would take some time to repair. She glanced down to see her axes lying next to the mat. They weren't so bad, a little dented, but nothing a forge couldn't fix. Then, she wondered if there was a forge nearby. She didn't even know where she was.

Trisen was brought out of her thoughts when another Orc, this one female, stepped into the hut. She wore the robes of a shaman. Two gold rings were pierced through the tops of both of her ears, and she also wore a gold nose ring. Her dark purple hair seemed a bit off against her green skin. It was done in a Mohawk up top and was braided at the bottom.

"Loktar," the shaman greeted.

"Uh...hello," Trisen replied back.

The shaman stepped forward and knelt down beside her. "I'm Emiska. You were a tricky one to pull back from the spirit realm."

"Well, I'm glad you were able to pull me back," Trisen told her.

Emiska smiled. "No one likes being dead," she commented.

Trisen chuckled. "I dare say not," she agreed.

Emiska placed her hands on Trisen's shoulders and gently guided her back against the pillow. Trisen was surprised at how gentle the Orc's strong hands were as they felt around her abdomen. Emiska hummed in thought.

"Seems there's still some inner bleeding that didn't right itself," she mused.

She held her hand out towards a bowl of water. It lifted out of the bowl, following Emiska's hand movements. She guided the water over the source of the wound and held it there. Trisen felt a strange sensation run throughout her body. She let out a strained breath as she felt her innards fix themselves. She could also feel other wounds begin to heal themselves. Her strength slowly began to return.

"That should do it," Emiska said, putting the water back in the bowl. "You're free to walk around, but I wouldn't suggest getting into any fights. Not with that damaged armour. You wouldn't last ten minutes."

Trisen looked at her armour and sighed. "No, I suppose not," she said. "Is there a forge around here?"

Emiska nodded. "Of course."

"Good. I will have to get to work on fixing my armour as quickly as possible," Trisen said.

"What's the rush?" Emiska asked.

Trisen looked at her, blue eyes questioning. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Emiska started. "It's not everyday I get to meet a Death Knight. Let alone bring one back from the dead." Her green skin seemed to darken as if she were blushing. "To be honest, I'm curious to know what makes you tick. There aren't a whole lot of Death Knights in the Valley of Trials. The only visitors we get are Trolls from Sen'jin Village."

Trisen sighed and nodded in understanding. "I guess I can stick around for another little while," she said.

The young Orc beamed. "I'll get you a change of clothes and I can bring your armour to the blacksmith." She got up and went to a chest on the other side of the hut. "I know it doesn't have the protection of plate, but not much goes on around here, so these robes should do the job."

Emiska handed the robes to Trisen, who held them up. She glanced up at the shaman. Emiska blushed.

"Granted they were made for an Orc," she admitted. "So, sizing might be an issue."

"No, no. They'll be fine," Trisen assured her with a smile.

Emiska smiled. "Alright. I'll let you get changed."

When she was out of the hut, Trisen began to undo the clasps of her armour. She dropped the plates on the ground, feeling unnaturally light without the heaviness of the armour. Trisen pulled the robes on. She held her arms out beside her. No doubt they were made for an Orc. She was swimming in the robes. But, Emiska and Mathias were generous enough to bring her back from death and open up their home to her. The least she could do was show them common courtesy.

Trisen gathered up her damaged armour and stepped outside the hut. The sun belted down without mercy. Trisen blinked against the harsh light of the sun and looked around. So, this was the Valley of Trials. Emiska wasn't joking when she said not much went on. There was a boar ranch on one side and a forge on the other. Trisen blew her bangs out of her eyes.

"This should be interesting," she muttered under her breath.

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Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : see chapter one

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Trisen turned the silver pendent around her neck over in her fingers. The pendent was two crossed axes with a green emerald in the middle. The pendent had never left her neck. She knew it held some kind of importance, but she couldn't remember what that importance was. Her eyes were fixed on a couple of Orc children as they fought with wooden weapons. One had a sword, the other an axe. Trisen smiled as she watched them play. They were still so innocent, and yet they dreamed of glorious battles.

She continued to turn the pendent in her fingers. As she watched the children play, she could see in her mind's eye a silver staff with a purple gemstone embedded in it. It was a staff a warlock would use. But, why would she continue to see a warlock's staff? What was it's purpose? She knew of no warlocks, or at least couldn't remember any. The only spell casters she knew were Emiska and Mathias. However, that didn't stop her from seeing a red-haired male Blood Elf in her dreams. He was one of the main reasons why she was in Durotar. She had been searching for clues about her past, and her search had brought her here.

Trisen looked up and blinked. The red-haired Blood Elf shimmered in the hot afternoon sun. His glowing green eyes stared at her through long bangs. He said and did nothing. He just stood there, looking at her.

"Who are you?" Trisen whispered, her fingers wrapping around the pendent.

"Who's who?" a voice sounded beside her.

Trisen jumped and turned to see Emiska standing over her. "Nothing," she replied. "Thought I saw something. Must have been the sun."

Emiska nodded and sat down next to the Death Knight. "Yeah, the heat tends to play tricks on the eyes," she said. "Did you get your armor fixed?"

"I left it with your blacksmith. He banished me from the forge."

Emiska began to smirk. "Oh? Why is that?" she asked.

Trisen began to blush. "I guess I was a bit...demanding," she confessed.

"In what way?" Emiska wanted to know.

The Blood Elf's blush deepened. "I told him how to fix the armor," she admitted.

Emiska burst out into a fit of laughter. "You told a _blacksmith_ how to fix _plate armor_?" she said through her laughter. "That's like telling an arcane mage how to use Arcane magic."

"I know. I know," Trisen said, looking away, her face burning with embarrassment.

Emiska continued to laugh, her body shaking with the laughter. It only fueled Trisen's embarrassment even more. Finally, the shaman seemed to calm down. Emiska took a deep breath and sighed.

"I haven't laughed that hard in...I don't know how long," she said. "Thanks for the laugh."

"You're welcome, I guess," Trisen said.

Emiska sighed again. "I almost forgot how good it was to laugh."

"I take it you don't laugh very often?" Trisen guessed.

Emiska shook her head. "Not since my parents died," she answered. "They were killed in the Scourge war."

"I'm so sorry," Trisen apologized, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I was young. It was a long time ago," Emiska said.

Trisen looked away. She couldn't help but feel guilty for her new friend's parent's deaths. They had died fighting against the Lich King, her lord and master.

"What were their names?" Trisen asked, her voice soft and quiet.

"Krakor and Fatina Stonescream," Emiska answered.

Trisen breathed a sigh of relief. Those names didn't sound familiar, so they couldn't have been reborn as Death Knights. However, that still didn't quench the guilt that the Lich King had taken a mother and father away from their children.

"Mathias did what he could to raise me," Emiska continued. "But, I think in doing so he left behind his role as brother, and took on the mantle of father. I don't think he knows how to be a brother anymore."

"I'm sorry," Trisen said again.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," Emiska told her. She grew quiet for a moment. "Actually, if I can be honest, I think you have it harder."

Trisen looked at her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You're bound to the Lich King," Emiska pointed out. "Even though you defected. I've seen the wary gazes others give you. It can't be easy."

Trisen glanced away again. "No," she agreed softly. "It isn't. Especially having no memory of my past."

"You don't remember anything?" Emiska asked in disbelief.

Trisen shook her head. "The only person who did know where I came from...I..."

She trailed off, shrinking into herself. Emiska became concerned.

"You what?"

"I killed her," Trisen whispered in regret. "I killed her in cold blood." She shook her head and closed her eyes. "She was my only link to my old life...and I killed her...all because the Lich King told me too."

Trisen bowed her head, pulling her knees to her chest and folding her arms over her knees. She buried her face in her folded arms, her shoulders beginning to tremble with remorseful sobs. Emiska put a comforting hand on Trisen's shoulder.

"Hey, now. No need for tears. That was a long time ago. You're not the same Death Knight you were back then," the Orc said.

Trisen turned tear filled blue eyes to her. "How can you assume that?" she asked. "You know nothing about me."

"I've seen enough," Emiska replied. "A Death Knight who was still loyal to the Lich King wouldn't show as much remorse and regret as you're showing, now. It's clear you're ashamed of your past. Now, I haven't met very many Death Knights, but I'm pretty sure you guys weren't reborn to show compassion and regret."

"No," Trisen confirmed. "Heartless murderers. That's what we were. Bowing our knee to the dark king. We were duty bound to serve him. His word was law. If he said someone needed to die, we killed them without a second thought."

"So, looking back on that time, have you seen a change in yourself?" Emiska asked.

Trisen thought back. The Orc shaman was right. She wasn't the same Death Knight she was when she was first reborn. She had turned her life around, fighting for honor and redemption. The Trisen Stormrider that had left Ebon Hold wasn't the same Trisen Stormrider now sitting in the Valley of Trials. Her loyalties were to the Horde, not the Lich King. The more she thought about it, Trisen slowly began to calm down. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Thank you, Emiska."

Emiska smiled. "Feel better?" she asked.

Trisen nodded. "Yes. A lot better. Thank you, again."

"When I'm bothered by a problem, Mathias always tells me to take a breath and analyse the situation. When I'm calm I can see the things I can change and those I can't," Emiska explained.

"That's good advice," Trisen commented.

Emiska smiled lightly. "It's gotten me out of a few problems," she admitted.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps scuffing across the ground. Trisen and Emiska looked up to see the blacksmith walking up. He held in his arms Trisen's repaired armor and weapons. The new friends stood up as the weathered Orc approached.

"Here you are, Miss," he said, holding the armor and weapons out.

Trisen took them from him. "Thank you so much, sir."

The blacksmith nodded and headed back to the forge. Emiska waited outside while Trisen went into the hut to change.

"Now that you have your armor back, I guess you'll be leaving," Emiska said.

Trisen strapped on her armor, relishing in the weight of the plate. "The longer I idle, the longer it'll take me to find out who I was," she stated. She stepped out of the hut, armor glistening in the sunlight. "However, I could use some company."

Emiska turned to look at her, eyes wide and hopeful. Trisen smiled and glanced down as she strapped her axes to her belt.

"Having a companion would be nice. Traveling can become lonely," she continued. She turned her eyes upward. "So, what do you say?" she asked. "Care to join me?"

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Reviews are welcome, flames are not


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